I Walked By
by dabbling
Summary: Another, different, post-ep for Frame. Bobby dealing with his grief, Alex being a friend. Oneshot.


I Walked By

"I don't know why I was down there. I don't. Well, maybe I do. He was my brother. My head, my head hadn't forgotten the reality of what he was, but my heart had. My heart led me down there, down his street, hoping I'd find him. Hoping for the real Frank Goren, the one who taught me to tie my shoes, and shoved me aside to take the blows of our drunken father. Hoping for the brother who took care of me when our mother was gone in one way or another.

That's why I was down there. And, God, that feeling when I saw the bus, the cruisers… When I saw the crime scene tape… Like somebody plucked my heart right out of my chest, and held it over me, beating still in that icy hand…

Until I saw his body. And the nails on that icy hand dug into my barely beating heart, and dug in deeper and deeper until I pulled the sheet back and… Frank was dead.

It killed me too. The man I was is gone forever.

And no one around here… seems to understand that. You know, they see me… they see… what they think of as me…

Sure, they think I'm… distraught over my brother's death, his _murder_. Sure, they think, oh, Goren's acting out of grief… but they all… they all think they know me.

Nobody knows me. Hell, even _I_ don't know me. I wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, and I don't know a Goddamn thing about those eyes staring back at me." He spared a quick glance in her direction, then closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"You're angry."

"Of course I'm angry!" His outburst made the kind doctor flinch. Bobby had surprised even himself. He turned away again, but kept working his fists, squeezing so hard he could feel the jagged edges of his nails biting against the flesh of his palms.

"Look, I… I, uh, know what you're trying to do. It won't help me. Nothing will help me. I just…" his voice was much quieter, had taken on that illusion of calm that he was so good at portraying. "I hope you'll let me keep my job." On that note, he slowly and calmly walked out of her office, without even a backward glance.

* * *

She felt like she'd been through the wringer, but to be honest, she knew that what she felt was nothing compared to _his_ pain. You see, _her_ pain was for him: compassion, empathy. And he had been through hell.

Alex had stood in observation while he'd spoken with Declan. Stood next to the Captain, and watched Bobby writhe in the seat as Declan revealed one horror after another.

_Nicole, Frank…Me…_ he'd said.

As much as she despised Declan Gage, there was one person he had profiled to a tee: Robert Goren. He'd taught him, and groomed him, and he knew Bobby better than Bobby knew himself. Gage knew exactly where the strings wound round Bobby's heart and soul. He knew exactly how to play him, and how to destroy him.

And as his friend, as his partner, she'd had to stand by and watch as Gage cut him, deeper and closer to the core with each sentence.

The only salvation was that Gage had not touched Donnie. It was the only moment in that interrogation room when she saw some relief in Bobby's pain.

And now, a week later, on leave pending a psych consult, she was still worried as hell about him. He'd barely spoken two words to her in the last week. Calling was futile; he'd just read her name on the screen and refuse to answer… purposely called her back when he knew she couldn't answer. He wasn't checking his email.

Alex decided the only way to get some peace of mind was to talk to him, face to face.

* * *

He peeked from behind the chain, then shut the door and opened it again. He stood squarely in the doorway, barring her from entrance. "Eames. What do you want?"

"Well, Bobby, I was worried about you."

His face was a mask. Not a single shred of emotion came through at her words. "I'm fine," he lied.

She raised her hand in the air, shaking her head as she spoke. "No you're not, Bobby. You're a fucked up mess. And the way you're acting right now is solid proof of it."

She'd managed to surprise him. His head drew back a millimeter in surprise.

"Now get out of the damn way and let me in."

His feet obeyed, and she was inside. He shut the door. After a pause, he changed tactics, and got a little snippy with her. "Worry all you want, but I don't know what you think you're going to do here that will help. There is no "magic pill" to make me feel better, no words that can ease the pain. My brother is dead, Alex. He's gone. Forever. Because of someone I thought was my friend. You can't fix that!"

Alex listened, her arms folded across her chest. She nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I can't fix anything. I can't do or say anything that will make it better. But I _can_ be here. And you can do whatever you want with that. Ignore me, yell at me, just whatever. But I have to do something."

"Fine," he said, and walked away from her, into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of wine and carried it to the living room, where he clicked on the television and ignored her presence completely.

Alex followed his lead. She poured herself a glass of wine, kicked her shoes off, and got comfortable on the couch.

He listened intently to the documentary on television, but his eyes kept stealing glances at her. At last, he said, "I saw Olivet today," and flipped off the tv.

"Oh?" she said.

Some combination of anger and tears bubbled to the surface and Bobby wrestled it down. "It's all in her hands, now," he finally spit out.

"You're worried about her report?"

He didn't respond. The answer was too obvious. Now his thoughts were coming so hard and fast he felt like he was under attack. He blinked, looked away from her, and jammed his fingers, hard, against his eyes.

Alex sat by in silence and watched. This wouldn't be easy. Bobby had spent his whole life burying his true emotions. To be honest, she wasn't sure what she would do if he let loose on her. She sipped her wine, and touched the pendant on her necklace.

"Alex?" he breathed, his whisper thunderous in the stillness of the room.

"Yeah?"

"I don't… I don't know…" His voice trailed off and he gave up on communication. They went back to sipping their wine. Sometime later, he got out of the chair and headed back to his bedroom. Alex stretched out on his couch, covering herself with the wadded up blanket she found at the other end.

* * *

He didn't seem happy to see her in the morning. He went silently to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Then he went back down the hall. She could hear the shower running. Alex stood and stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping on an unfamiliar couch. She poured herself a cup of coffee and one for him, as well.

He got a short speech before she left.

"I'm going to work. I'll be back tonight, and you damn well better let me in."

* * *

Arriving that night was better than the night before. He didn't greet her, but after she knocked, his door mysteriously swung open, seemingly of its own accord. No one blocked her way in. She came in and shut the door behind her, dropping her overnight bag on the floor.

"Hi, Bobby," she told him.

He said nothing, but raised a hand in the air behind him as he walked away. He disappeared into his bedroom.

Alex sighed and busied herself in the kitchen. She found some pork chops in the fridge and laid them out on a pan. When the oven was ready, she stuck them in. The broccoli looked pretty sad, but she cut away at it and saved the best parts. She found what she needed and steamed it.

He came out when his phone rang, and seemed surprised by the smells. He held the phone to his ear. "Goren," he said. She saw his fist clinch, and his body tense. "Y-yes. Yes. I'm okay. Thank you, Captain." He ended the call, then carefully set the phone down on the table.

She served the food on two plates and set them on the table, but asked nothing of him.

"Another week, and I have to see Olivet again."

Her heart ached for him. She set two glasses down on the table.

"Well, aren't you going to _say_ something?!" He asked, the anger raging in his voice.

"Bobby, I don't know what to say. You said yourself there are no magic words that will make this better."

The only thing that stopped him from putting his fist through the wall was the knowledge that it would only hurt him, physically and financially. He spun in a circle and then flopped in the chair at the table.

"Pushups," she said.

He picked up a piece of broccoli on his fork and looked at it. "Hmm?"

"When you're angry. Try pushups."

He laughed off her advice, but dug into the meal. He couldn't get it down fast enough.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

"I… I don't know."

Worry crossed her face again, but at least she knew now she had a purpose here. She got up, taking her plate to the sink. She turned. "You want something else?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No."

While she cleaned up the dishes, she heard him on the phone in the other room, scheduling his appointment with Olivet.

* * *

"You… uh… you couldn't clear me for duty." He remained standing, the same as last time. His large frame hovered near the door.

She nodded. "You didn't give me much to work with." He folded his arms, then raised one hand to rest his chin on it. "I have to know how you'll cope. So I'll know if you can handle the pressures of your work," she clarified.

He pushed his hand up and around the back of his neck. "You know. I cope. I set this aside. Work is work. This is not. Not anymore."

"And when you have to face a grieving family member? Or interrogate a killer?"

He folded his arms. "You think I'll snap."

"I don't know what I think yet. I'm asking."

He smiled. "We don't work in a vacuum. I'll have my partner."

"She can… stop you, when you get derailed?"

"Yeah, sure."

Olivet looked through the file in front of her. "I understand there was an incident in the ME's office."

His face reddened. "That was… she…" He ran his hand through his hair. "It was personal."

"Yet it was brought into the workplace."

"Things were different then."

"Yes. They were…"

His anger flared, and he fought to control his voice. "You- you're looking for something, for a reason…"

"No. I'm looking for an explanation, and a plan for the future. 'My partner will stop me' isn't good enough, Detective. We both know where that responsibility lies."

At long last, he walked around and sat himself in the chair across from her. "And you won't clear me until-"

"Until I feel you can handle it. That's all there is to it. No more and no less."

* * *

She'd come back again. She'd cooked dinner, and cleaned up, and at this moment was sleeping on his couch.

Bobby rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling while he thought. He thought about the things he'd told Olivet.

Alex knew him. Better than anyone else, maybe better than himself. It was why he'd tossed that out to Olivet. Alex knew when and how to stop him. But Olivet was right. He didn't always listen. That day, in Ross' office, she couldn't stop him.

_I'm right, too, _he thought. _There was more to it. It was personal. Day to day work is not personal. I've managed fine for years, and rarely crossed the line._ He turned again, then just as quickly got out of bed. Bobby walked out to the living room and sank to his knees in front of her.

He couldn't disturb her, and so he just sat, watching the easy rise and fall of her chest. He was still setting there, staring at her when she rolled onto her side. She jumped in surprise. "Bobby?"

He nodded, but could find any words. "You… you can't sleep like that," he said. "Take my bed."

She slowly sat up, but she smiled. It was the first time he'd looked outside himself in weeks. She held out her hand, and he took it. With a gentle tug, she got him to come sit beside her on the couch.

"How long have you been here?" she asked him, gently massaging his hand.

"I don't know. I just wanted… But you were asleep, and…"

"Bobby, I'm here for you. I don't mind if you want to wake me."

He was touched by her kindness, and his eyes grew wet. His words failed him again, and he squeezed her hand as he blinked back the tears.

And somehow, in the safe darkness of the room, with the one person who knew him and really loved him, he was able to talk. Alex passed no judgment. She sat beside him, hand linked with his and didn't try to make it right. She only sat as the pain and grief flowed out of him, and listened.

* * *

When his phone rang in the morning, he answered quickly, hoping it hadn't awakened her. "Goren," he said. He felt a lump rising in his throat. "Thanks, Captain," he whispered. Walking out to the kitchen, he pressed 'end' and sank into a wooden chair.

She walked in behind him. They didn't touch and she didn't speak, but he could feel her presence.

"Olivet sent her report. I can go back to work on Monday."


End file.
